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All Because of the Theme Tune


caldrail

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Last night the tv news news waited to show Barack Obama live as he gave a speech about his stimulus package to revive the flagging economy. The audience, which seemed to composed mostly of photographers whose trigger fingers couldn't resist taking photo's of the empty podium, needed to be entertained whilst they waited for the presidents appearance. So a recording of a brass band played over the speakers. It happened to be the theme tune to Monty Python. I had this image of the US Department of Ridiculous Ambulation arriving in suits and shades, twisting their legs in impossible sequences as the assumed they position on the stage.

 

"And now for something completely different..." Says another as the President takes the stage. The CIA guards go into a song and dance routine...

 

We're on guard with the C.I.A.

We sleep all night. We work all day.

 

Security Heavies : He's on guard with the C.I.A.

He sleeps all night and he works all day.

 

I shoot my gun. I wear my shades.

I go to the lavatory.

On Wednesdays I go shoppin'

To save my great country.

 

Mounties: He shoots his gun. He wears his shades.

He goes to the lavatory.

On Wednesdays he goes shopping

To save our great country.

 

I look so cool. Can't help myself.

I like to taunt the press.

I put on women's clothing

And hang out in a dress.

Security Heavies : He looks so cool. Can't help himself.

He likes to taunt the press.

He puts on women's clothing

And hangs out in a dress?!

 

I stand on guard. I wear high heels,

Suspendies, and a bra.

I wish I'd been a girlie,

Just like my dear Mama

Security Heavies : He stands on guard. He wears high heels,

Suspendies, and a bra?!

 

"Right" Says Obama, "Thats enough of that! I wish to register a complaint." (The owner does not respond.)

 

Mr. Obama: 'Ello, Miss?

 

Owner: What do you mean "miss"?

 

Mr Obama: I'm sorry, I have a cold. I wish to make a complaint!

 

Owner: We're closin' for lunch.

 

Mr. Obama: Never mind that, my lad. I wish to complain about this President what I purchased not half an hour ago from this very audience hall.

 

Owner: Oh yes, the, uh, the Texas Blue...What's, uh...What's wrong with it?

 

Mr. Obama: I'll tell you what's wrong with it, my lad. 'E's dead, that's what's wrong with it!

 

Owner: No, no, 'e's uh,...he's resting.

 

Mr Obama Look, matey, I know a dead President when I see one, and I'm looking at one right now.

 

Owner: No no he's not dead, he's, he's restin'! Remarkable guy, the Texas Blue, idn'it, ay? Beautiful plumage!

 

Mr Obama The plumage don't enter into it. It's stone dead.

 

Owner: Nononono, no, no! 'E's resting!

 

Mr Obama All right then, if he's restin', I'll wake him up! (shouting at the cage) 'Ello, Mister Bush! I've got a lovely fresh cow for you if you

show...

 

(owner hits the cage)

 

Owner: There, he moved!

 

Mr Obama No, he didn't, that was you hitting the cage!

 

Owner: I never!!

 

Mr Obama Yes, you did!

 

Owner: I never, never did anything...

 

Mr Obama (yelling and hitting the cage repeatedly) 'ELLO GEORGE!!!!! Testing! Testing! Testing! Testing! This is your nine o'clock alarm call!

 

(Takes President out of the cage and thumps its head on the counter. Throws it up in the air and watches it plummet to the floor.)

 

Mr. Obama: Now that's what I call a dead President.

 

Owner: No, no.....No, 'e's stunned!

 

Mr Obama STUNNED?!?

 

Owner: Yeah! You stunned him, just as he was wakin' up! Texas Blues stun easily, major.

 

Mr Obama Um...now look...now look, mate, I've definitely 'ad enough of this. That President is definitely deceased, and when I purchased it not 'alf an hour ago, you assured me that its total lack of movement was due to it bein' tired and shagged out following a prolonged cattle drive.

 

Owner: Well, he's...he's, ah...probably pining for the desert.

 

Mr Obama PININ' for the DESERT?!?!?!? What kind of talk is that?, look, why did he fall flat on his back the moment I got 'im home?

 

Owner: The Texas Blue prefers keepin' on it's back! Remarkable guy, id'nit, squire? Lovely plumage!

 

Mr Obama Look, I took the liberty of examining that President when I got it home, and I discovered the only reason that it had been sitting on its perch in the first place was that it had been NAILED there.

 

(pause)

 

Owner: Well, o'course it was nailed there! If I hadn't nailed that bird down, it would have nuzzled up to those bars, bent 'em apart with its beak, and

VOOM! Feeweeweewee!

 

Mr Obama "VOOM"?!? Mate, this bird wouldn't "voom" if you put four million volts through it! 'E's bleedin' demised!

 

Owner: No no! 'E's pining!

 

Mr Obama 'E's not pinin'! 'E's passed on! This President is no more! He has ceased to be! 'E's expired and gone to meet 'is maker! 'E's a stiff! Bereft of life, 'e rests in peace! If you hadn't nailed 'im to the perch 'e'd be pushing up the daisies! 'Is metabolic processes are now 'istory! 'E's off the twig! 'E's kicked the bucket, 'e's shuffled off 'is mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin' choir invisibile!! THIS IS AN EX-President!!

 

(pause)

 

Owner: Well, I'd better replace it, then. (he takes a quick peek behind the counter) Sorry squire, I've had a look 'round the back of the shop, and uh,

we're right out of Presidents.

 

Mr Obama I see. I see, I get the picture.

 

Owner: I got a slug.

 

(pause)

 

Mr Obama Pray, does it talk?

 

Owner: Nnnnot really.

 

Mr Obama WELL IT'S HARDLY A BLOODY REPLACEMENT, IS IT?!!???!!?

 

Owner: N-no, I guess not. (gets ashamed, looks at his feet)

 

Mr Obama Well.

 

(pause)

 

Owner: (quietly) D'you.... d'you want to come back to my place?

 

Mr Obama (looks around) Yeah, all right, sure.

Book of the Week

Today, as I climbed the stairs toward the upper floors of the library, I spotted a book on the quick-read shelves. Yoganetics it was called. Is it just me, or can you too imagine rows of robots contorting their metallic bodies whilst a harsh monotone voice says "Hommmmmmmmm".

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*standing ovation, complete with audacious clapping and whistling*

 

BRAVO!!! AUTHOR!!! AUTHOR!!!

 

I move to immediately place this in the Monty Python Hall of Parody. I believe that Sir Cleese will immediately ratify it, followed by a seconding by Sir Palin (no relation to the Guvnah of Alasker) and a thirding by Sir Idle. Sirs Jones and Gilliam are right out, as they are foreigners (or Welsh, which is the same thing).

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And the Lord spake, saying,

 

'First shalt thou take the mick. Then, shalt thou count your ratifiers to three. No more. No less.

 

'Three shalt be the number thou shalt count, and the number of the counting shall be three.

 

'Four shalt thou not count, nor either count thou two, excepting that thou then proceed to three.

 

'Five is right out.

 

'Once the number three, being the third number, be reached, then, lobbest thou thy funny stuff towards thy audience, who, being naughty in My sight, shall giggle.'

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